


Wrong Tea, Right Barista

by hudsteith



Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: Bakery and Coffee Shop, Barista!John, M/M, customer!roger
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:55:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27013870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hudsteith/pseuds/hudsteith
Summary: And that’s why he didn’t like to drink tea outside his house. His tea was extremely specific: he liked a hint of milk, which for him meant warming milk for precisely five seconds, and one and three seventh sugars meant almost one and a half spoons of sugar, but not precisely one and a half spoons of sugar, because it’s – for him – the perfect amount of sugar in a tea.
Relationships: John Deacon/Roger Taylor
Comments: 16
Kudos: 33





	Wrong Tea, Right Barista

Roger doesn’t like to drink tea at these new stupid coffee shops. No, sir, tea was supposed to be drunk at home, made by himself – one of the few things he knew how to do in the kitchen – and not by a stranger, that probably wouldn’t know how much milk you liked or how sweet you liked the tea.

But Freddie called him to discuss the band and they were passing in front of a coffee shop. “It’s better than talking in that shoe box you call a flat,” commented Freddie, already pushing the door.

The blond man rolled his eyes. Yeah, he needed to look for a new flat, but to do that, he needed a flatmate or he couldn’t pay the rent. He didn't want to share a flat with Freddie or Brian; Freddie and Roger couldn’t boil an egg even to save their lives, and Brian was too moody for Roger to stay living together 24/7 with. So for now, he needed to stay in the shoe box flat.

The two musicians were talking about their next gig, while waiting in the order line. They only lost their focus in the conversation when they heard someone yelling.

“How can you get this order wrong, John? It’s not fucking hard!” The man that seemed to be the manager was shouting at a young brunet man, around Roger’s age. The man looked more embarrassed with the yelling than with his mistake, and his cheeks were fully red.

“Sorry.” The barista said in a low tone, and with a shy smile he started to attend to the person in front of him.

“What a twat.” Whispered Freddie.

When their time came, the brunet barista still looked a bit ashamed. Roger finally saw him properly: he had a delicate jawline, a pointy nose and a set of shiny green eyes. When the man smiled at them, his eyes became smaller and his cheekbones got rounder. Some people couldn’t pull this look off, but he looked ridiculously cute.

“Good afternoon, gentlemen. My name is John, what can I get for you?” his voice was deeper than Roger expected.

“I’d like a portion of cinnamon biscuits and a cup of tea with half fat milk and no sugar, please.” Said Freddie, with a kind smile.

“Okay.” John wrote it down quickly. He looked at Roger, who seemed spaced out, so the brunet asked “And you?”

Roger came back to the present, blinking a couple of times. He got lost in the man’s beauty and forgot for a bit what he was supposed to do.

And then he said “Oh, I’d like a portion of milk and butter biscuits with a cup of tea, with a hint of milk, and one and three seventh sugars please.”

“One and three seventh?” John questioned, frowning. Roger quickly nodded. “Okay then. Please sit down at one of the tables and I will get you the orders in a bit.”

Freddie and Roger chose a table where they could see the street, so they could play their favorite game: ranking street people’s clothing. Freddie had a small clothing shop and had a sharp eye for fashion, and Roger just liked to judge people. Occasionally he helped his friend at the shop when Freddie called on him.

They were experts in talking about what was wrong with someone’s outfit and how to improve it...but sometimes they just did it to mess about.

“Hello again, mates. A portion of cinnamon biscuits and a cup of tea with half fat milk and no sugar for you.” John put the order in front of Freddie, who murmured a ‘Thank you’ to him. And he turned to Roger. “And for you, a portion of milk and butter biscuits with a cup of tea, with a hint of milk, and one and three seventh sugars.”

Roger smiled at John when the barista gave him his order. The man stayed in front of them, holding his hands together, with an expectant look on his face. The customers looked at him, puzzled.

“Oh, sorry.” John apologized. “My boss is really pushy, and he wanted to know if I gave you the right orders.”

“Okay.” Roger accepted and grabbed his cup of tea, drinking a sip of it.

And that’s why he didn’t like to drink tea outside his house. His tea was extremely specific: he liked a hint of milk, which for him meant warming milk for _precisely_ five seconds, and one and three seventh sugars meant _almost_ one and a half spoons of sugar, but not precisely one and a half spoons of sugar, because it’s – for him – the perfect amount of sugar in a tea. 

Normally the only person that could do this without pissing Roger off was himself, and the moment his tongue felt the tea he knew it was too milk-y and too sugary.

But when he raised his eyes, he saw the manager eyeing his table, expecting his and Freddie’s reaction. By his face he was needing an excuse to fire the brunet man.

He had barely met John, but he couldn’t let a stupid drink take out someone’s job.

“Right on point.” Roger gave him a fake smile, and his heart melted when he saw John’s posture changing: from an anxious one, all rigid and anxious, to a relieved one, exhaling deeply and showing a full smile, with a tooth gap. It was adorable. That made Roger add “You’re a great barista, John.”

“Oh, thank you, mates. Enjoy it.” And he turned around, but he wasn’t far enough away for the two men not to hear a low ‘Yes!’ coming from him.

Roger knew he would hate the tea, but what could he do? So he started eating his biscuits and drinking his tea, trying not to frown his forehead every time the drink went into his mouth.

\---

A week later Dominique, his best friend, was trying to be vegan, and he found a delicious corn cake with a vegan latte in a small coffee shop she found. Roger tried to be supportive – since she broke up with her girlfriend Veronica – and went with her. God knew how many times the woman supported him when he broke up with a boyfriend.

When he passed the door and looked inside, he recognized the place. He recognized the barista too. Maybe he recognized him back, because when they went to ask for their order, the brunet man gave a bigger smile than he gave the last customer. “Welcome. What can I get for you?” John asked.

“A slice of corn cake and a vegan latte, please.” Dominique said.

“And I’d like a slice of rum cake with –” Roger cut himself off when he saw John raising his hand.

“No need to tell me. A cup of tea with a hint of milk and one and three seventh sugars. Right?”

Roger looked at his excited face and knew in his gut that the man would get his tea wrong, but he didn’t have the heart to tell him that. “Right.”

“I’ll give you all that in a bit.”

Dominique and Roger walked over to a table, and the french woman asked “So you already came here without me, huh?”

“Freddie and I came here last week, no need to be jealous.” Roger teased.

She slapped his hand when they sat. “I’m not. Now tell me how he is. I haven’t seen Freddie in ages.”

They started to gossip about their friend, and how he was handling the shop, school and the band gigs. Roger never knew how the man had time to sleep, but somehow he did.

When they were talking about having a little trip to France – Dominique’s mom loved Roger and wanted him to spend some of his holiday at her house – the orders came. John put the slices of cake and teas on the table, as the pair thanked him.

“Last week you ran out without me noticing and I forgot to truly thank you for that day.” John spoke to Roger. “Unfortunately we don’t have the best customers and they usually just complain, and that’s why my manager that day was...like that.” The barista finished with a blush on his face.

“He was a true prick with you.” Roger commented. “Everybody makes mistakes now and then, and also there’s no need to yell at you in front of anyone.”

John smiled at him. “You’re right, but what can I say? He demands and I obey. Anyway, enjoy your tea.” And he turned around.

With that, Roger remembered about his drink. He looked at it with insecurity. Maybe...Well, maybe this time he could get it right.

The blond man grabbed the cup and took a sip. The moment he tasted the tea, he knew he was wrong: now John had put less milk and sugar than it was supposed to have.

Before Roger could complain about it, he looked away and saw John taking a peek at his table, curious about his reaction. Roger just raised his cup a bit, showing fake approval. John smiled widely at him and started to attend to another customer.

Fuck, Roger was making that a very ugly habbit.

\--- 

It was starting to be ridiculous at how many times Roger went to the coffee shop without wanting to.

Freddie really enjoyed the biscuits there, Dominique was now flirting with a barista called Chrissie and Brian, as everyone could have imagined, liked the calm and quiet vibe of the place. So even when he didn’t want tea, he was there.

And the problem was he'd been hanging out at the place for two months and he didn’t tell John how to make his tea to his taste. Roger was always giving himself excuses for not doing it: because it was too crowded and John couldn’t give him attention, because he was in a deep conversation with whoever was with him, or because John kept showing his kind smile and Roger couldn’t take the barista’s happiness away over something so small.

Everytime Roger showed up, he welcomed him, either with a nod or a wave, not even taking his order, saying ‘Your usual?’ with his stupid dimples showing.  
‘Maybe next time I will tell him’, Roger always said to himself. But next time had come very often, and he was yet to tell John. 

The next time he was with Freddie and Brian, discussing if they should add some songs Freddie wrote, on the band’s playlist. And about the bassist situation.

And this time, the tea was extremely sugary. Maybe John put two full spoons of sugar. He couldn’t hold in his reaction, humming in discontent when he sipped the tea.

“Something wrong?” asked John, worried.

Roger felt a cold shiver. ‘Not yet’ the blond man thought in his head. “Just a toothache.”

“Oh, okay. Hope you get better.” John clapped Roger’s shoulder gently. It was only a one second touch. And then he looked at the other two. “I saw your gig last week.”

“Really?” Freddie became interested now. He smiled proudly at the barista. 

“Yes. I liked the name. Queen is a very badass name.”

“Thank you, darling. I chose it myself. But did you like our music?”

John bit his lip before saying “It was a good gig, but something was off. Sorry, mates, but your bass player wasn’t in his best shape.”

Roger groaned at that. Everybody could tell that the bass player had been shit.

Brian gave a polite smile and spoke up. “That’s not the first time, and that’s why we needed to take him out of the band.” 

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. Hope you find a new bass player soon.” John nodded. “So...I finally got your names. Can’t believe I had to see you playing to get it.”

“I can’t believe we never told you.” Freddie put his hand over his chest. “How rude.”

“That’s fine, most of the customers don’t do it anyway, Freddie.” John smiled. And he turned to the curly-haired man. “Brian, I have to say I liked your guitar. Never saw one like that before.”

Brian now showed a more excited smile. “Well, because my Red Special is unique. I built it myself with my father.”

“Really?”

“Really. I made it when I was –”

“John, why did you do this?” Roger asked, rolling his eyes. “Now he’s going to show all his pictures of him with his guitar. He even has a slideshow, with photos of the building process, and it’s a very long video.”

The barista giggled. “I sense that I don’t need to stroke your ego, Roger, but you’re quite a good drummer.”

He was right, Roger didn’t need it, but he liked to hear John saying that, and the blond showed a smile to him.

“Please, don’t do this, darling. His ego is twice as big as him,” warned Freddie.

“Noted.” Teased John. “So I’m keeping in my memory the way you like your tea, but I had to buy a cover story to know your name.”

Roger blinked twice, feeling his face getting red. “Well, I was here all the time. You just needed to ask it.” He said, with a smile.

John now giggled widely, showing the tooth gap that Roger liked so much – maybe the drummer kept finding himself staring at his smile every time he was around. _Maybe_. 

“You’re right. Silly me.” Said John, still looking at Roger’s blue eyes.

They stayed looking at each other for a few seconds, just before John’s boss shouted, from the other side of the shop. “Deaky, there’s other customers to attend.”

John looked at his boss and then back to the trio. “Okay. Ah, enjoy your tea, mates.”

And the brunet was gone.

Roger concentrated again on his tea, frowning again because of the sugar in it, and then he realized that Freddie and Brian had their eyes on him. “What?”

“Nothing.” Freddie smiled deviously. “Just you and the barista flirting with each other.”

“We weren’t flirting.” But a damned blush crept up his face.

“Right, right.”

\---

That was the first time Roger came to the coffee shop alone.

He was determined to tell John about his tea. Even though he was developing a small – maybe not too small – crush on the barista, he couldn’t let that keep making him drink teas he didn’t like. Once he made his tea at home and his tongue felt weird when he made the right one.

When he got in the line, Chrissie was the one behind the balcony. “Hi, Roger. What can I get for you?”

“Where’s John?” that slipped out his mouth. Fuck.

“Just a bit late. He’ll get here soon.”

“Okay. I will wait then.” And he walked over to sit at one of the tables.

He put on his headphones and shuffled his playlist. _A Thing About You_ by Roxette started playing. How convenient. The blond man smiled alone. 

When he was texting a college mate he saw a cup of tea landing in front of him, on the table. He took off the headphones and looked up. John was smiling at him, kindly. Roger’s heart skipped a beat.

“Hope I didn’t scare you.” Said John, standing in front of him.

“No, you didn’t.” Roger took a sip of the tea; maybe when Chrissie said about her interaction with him, John supposed it was about his ‘usual’.

He almost got it. _Again_. 

“John, I –”

“Did you –”

They both spoke at the same time, and then they giggled with it. Roger pointed to John, asking him to speak first.

“I was going to ask if you already found a bassist.” John said.

“Well, not yet. We already had some auditions, but we didn’t find anyone that fit with our music style.” Roger confessed.

“Oh, I see.” John licked his lower lip. Somehow Roger felt himself wondering if John’s lips were soft as they looked. “I didn’t say the other day, but I played bass for my high school band. Nothing big, just to have fun. Still play when I feel like it.”

Roger was surprised. “How about that. Fancy coming to audition for us?”

“Wow, when you ask me that nicely.” John teased.

“What else do you want, Deaky? A letter invitation?” the drummer played along. “Why ‘Deaky’, by the way?”

“It’s because my last name is Deacon, so...”

“Oh, okay. If we’re talking about last names, mine is Taylor.” 

“Roger Taylor.” Recited John, and then he smiled. “It suits you.”

Why was Roger blushing _again_? “Thanks.” 

“You’re welcome. And what did you want to tell me?”

Roger had forgotten about that. He felt that he shouldn’t, but he was already there, so... “It’s about my tea. You always got it wrong.”

John’s smile slipped and he blinked, surprised. Roger felt guilty in the next second. “Oh. I didn’t know about that. I kinda got proud of remembering it.”

“It’s not your fault. I know it’s a bit tricky, because the milk and the portion of sugar, and –”

“Hang on.” John cut him. “So you’re saying you’ve been drinking the wrong tea for almost three months?”

If Roger could find a hole to jump in, he would.

“Well, yes. But just because I know your boss is a pain in the ass and doesn’t seem to really like you.”

“So you were trying to protect me?”

Fuck, it sounded as silly as it was. “Yes.”

John stayed silent for a couple of moments, and Roger could sense the man – that was most of the time an enigma to him – complain about not needing anyone to protect him and that Roger didn’t need to feel pity for him.

“How often do you lie, Roger?” asked John, and Roger could hear a playful tone in the barista’s voice.

Roger felt more relieved. “Not that often.”

“Okay then.” And then he walked away.

Roger didn’t know what to think about that, so he kept drinking his tea.

He felt good to finally tell the truth to John, and maybe in three more months he could have the guts to ask him out. _Maybe_. 

The drummer paid for the tea and was walking to the door when he heard; “Roger, wait.”

He turned around and saw John walking fast towards him, with a small piece of paper in his hand. He handed it to Roger and said; “That’s my number, in case Queen wants to have an audition with me.”

Roger looked to the paper, and the number on it. He could dance if it wasn’t too soon for it.

“Oh, okay. But...that’s the only reason you’re giving me your number?” risked Roger.

John showed a smirk. “Maybe not. I kinda want you to teach me how to make your right tea.”

Roger held in a laugh. That man was a true treasure. “I’d love to teach you.”

Maybe he wouldn’t need to wait three more months.  
  



End file.
